


No Better Thing

by fimbrethiel



Series: The Elrohir and Rumil Chronicles [2]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-08
Updated: 2014-11-08
Packaged: 2018-02-24 15:29:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2586539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fimbrethiel/pseuds/fimbrethiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A balcony and banter.  And a blanket.</p>
<p>Prompt:  036 (50passages) – “I do not know what put it into your head, or your heart, to do that.”<br/>Prompt:  009 (25fluffyfics) – blankets</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Better Thing

**Author's Note:**

> Original date of completion: October 2006
> 
> Author’s Note: Written for the LiveJournal 25fluffyfics and 50passages challenges. My deepest gratitude goes to Minuial Nuwing for providing the motivation to begin writing again after a long dry spell. She tossed out the opening paragraph and prompt, and challenged me to make something of it. *hugs*

~*~*~*~*~  
  
The evening had turned dark and cool by the time Rúmil stepped onto the balcony.  His bath-damp hair clung to his skin, and he shivered.    
  
Hugging himself against the chill, he leaned against the balustrade and looked out into the dusk, where the auburns and russets of the Misty Mountains were now shrouded in shadow.  Autumn’s end was approaching and his time in the Hidden Vale was nearing its final days.  A promise he had sworn to his Lord and Lady that he would return to the golden forest before the first snowfall, and even now, under the velvet veil of encroaching nightfall, the higher peaks were already dusted with early snow.  
  
Never more heartily than now did Rúmil regret that promise.  With each five-year in which he made the late-summer journey to Imladris, it became more and more difficult to part with his lover, until the interminable stretch of winter had passed and Elrohir would make the trek to Lothlórien as part of his mother’s escort.  Would that he could remain in the dale of Elrond Half-elven until the spring melt, here where his heart lay, but it was not to be... not yet.  He would return to the wood of Lothlórien before the passes were snowed in and the rivers choked with ice, making travel too dangerous.  Though his heart ached at the thought of leaving, he did not make promises lightly, and would not defy his Lord, no matter how strong the desire was to remain.  
  
Rúmil shivered again, sighed, and drew his arms even more tightly around his waist.  
  
The soft ‘snick’ of the door closing behind him brought a smile to his lips.  It came as no real surprise to Rúmil that his lover would seek him out, even though they had only been apart for mere moments.  With the days until their separation passing ever more quickly, Elrohir had scarcely let him out of sight.  It seemed there was a sense of urgency, almost desperation, to keep each other at close hand, to savor even the briefest glance, the lightest brush of a hand, a shared smile from across a room, as though each were storing up memories for the coming years apart.  
  
Rúmil remained as he was, leaning against the banister and looking out into the gloaming as his lover’s bare feet padded across cold stone.  A strong, possessive arm encircled his waist and pulled him close, something warm and wonderfully soft draped over his bare shoulders.  
  
Craning his neck, Rúmil tipped his head back and met Elrohir’s lips for a kiss.  Turning in his lover's arms, the blanket slipped and he grasped at it blindly before it slid off and fell to the ground.  
  
He looked at the threadbare fabric, silvery gray in color and worn through in places, and could not quite suppress a small gasp of surprise.  Lifting his eyes, he cast an incredulous look at Elrohir.  
  
“Is this – you _kept_ it?”  
  
"It is, and of course I did," Elrohir replied, tucking what had become little more than a tattered rag more securely around the shivering - but exquisitely, gloriously nude - body in his arms.  
  
Caressing the well-worn fabric lovingly between his fingers, Rúmil shook his head in wonder.  "Unbelievable.  And after all these years, you still have this ratty old thing.  **I do not know what put it into your head, or your heart, to do that** , but thank you."  
  
"’Twas a gift from a towheaded, insufferable little brat, that for reasons still unknown, I have become extraordinarily fond of,” Elrohir answered with a chuckle.  “I could not bear to insult the most improbably cheeky little sprite that ever was born.  Nay, my love, there was little choice in the matter.  I had to keep it.”  
  
“Could it be that my gallant Elf-knight has a sentimental streak?"  
  
"Perhaps a tiny one," Elrohir admitted, kissing his beloved's still-damp silver-blond hair.  "I think I knew even then that he would steal my heart someday."  
  
"The towheaded little brat feels the same about you, Rohiren."  
  
Rúmil looked up and caught his lover's eye, his bright green eyes glimmering in the faint light filtering through the heavy draperies lining the balcony door.  "Now unless you have better plans for evening, I would like to adjourn to your chambers and warm myself before the fire.  With you.  Naked.  Now."  
  
"Naked, you say?"  
  
"As the day you were born."  The blanket slipped temptingly off one shoulder.  
  
"Now?"  
  
"What part of _now_ are you having trouble with?"  
  
"Again?"  
  
" _Again_."  The blanket dropped to the ground.  
  
"Insatiable."  
  
"Hmm hmm."  
  
Neither gave the old blanket another thought until morning.  
  
*~*~* finis *~*~*


End file.
